


walk fifty city blocks down but they always find us

by lowi



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-19
Updated: 2014-10-19
Packaged: 2018-02-21 19:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2480237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lowi/pseuds/lowi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'When they arrived at the Chunnel, Louis asked if Niall had a passport, and Niall somehow felt like he was supposed to say no – that they were supposed to part here.' They didn't part there, and they still haven't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	walk fifty city blocks down but they always find us

**Author's Note:**

  * For [moshi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/moshi/gifts).



> This is for moshi. Thank you so much for your lovely prompts, they were all so good I wanted to write ALL of them. In the end, I wrote this. It's slightly tweaked, but I hope you enjoy it. xx
> 
> Title is from Metric's 'The Wanderlust'.

First time they shag is in the gents on a gas station. Niall doesn’t mind much, considering the alternative would’ve been the backseat of Louis’ car, the same car in which there’s a dead body. It’s not like it’s smelling or anything; it’s just that the knowledge that there’s a corpse less than half a metre away is kinda off-putting.

However, the way Louis’ fingers are magically having Niall squirm around them – like, seriously, he’s not ever been fingered like this before; it’s so dirty and Louis keeps pulling out and licking his fingers clean all the time – makes Niall wonder if it really had been that off-putting being in the old rusty Audi.

‘Are you gonna come?’ Louis asks, voice sounding harsh. ‘Or do I have time to –‘ He actually pulls out his fingers – again, for fuck’s sake, could he just keep them in there, please – just to make the gesture for penetration, if one’s to put it in pure technological terms and ignore the whole rudeness about it.

‘Yeah, come on,’ Niall responds. His trousers are still bundled around his feet, jeans so skinny he can’t take a step forward or backwards and anyway the cubicle they’re in is really small, like, he’s all strained where he’s standing next to the toilet bowl, so he wouldn’t be able to walk either way. As if he’d want to walk away from this very moment. ‘D’you think you can, like, hold me up?’

‘Against the wall?’ Something in Louis’ eyes glimmer. ‘Yeah, c’mon, sure can.’ It’s kind of as though Louis is taking it as a challenge, but then again, Louis is taking everything as a challenge. And right now Niall would really like to get Louis’ cock inside of him, so he’s not gonna ponder over Louis’ reasons for fucking him.

Louis, with one hand digging into Niall’s bum, unzips his own flyer with the other, and his light grey boxers have already a delightfully wet spot on them. Niall’s head fall forward so it’s resting against Louis’ collarbone, and he breathes out against Louis’ skin while Louis grinds up against him. They’re so close; there’s like no space at all between them, and Niall has never been wanting that this badly. He doesn’t mind there’s walls like five inches away from him, he doesn’t mind, because Louis grabs around his thighs and breathes heavily into his hair.

‘We don’t have any lube,’ Louis says, straight forward but it’s shaky, his voice. ‘Could use hand sanitizer, I suppose.’ He pauses, pad of his thumb brushing across Niall’s arsehole, and with his other hand he touches Niall’s cheek. The touches are similar, one really soft and the other too, but one of them makes Niall twist in anticipation and the other makes something in him feel warm. Odd, really. He’s not minding.

‘Yeah, sure, whatever,’ Niall says, voice almost stuttering, shivering. ‘Go on.’

Louis’ grin is nearly manic, as he stretches out his hand to the hand sanitizer dispenser fastened on the wall next to them.

When they finally get to it, when Louis’s been digging fingers soaked in hand sanitizer deeply into Niall’s arse, and Niall’s thighs have been clenching around Louis’ waist and he’s been told he’s so fucking tight not even a pencil could fit in there and Niall doesn’t know why on earth Louis finds that so hot, then Louis finally chucks his boxers off fully, and Niall has to force his eyes open because he wants to see Louis’ cock, he wants to see it all.

They’re in the toilets at a gas station, and it’s a better fuck than Niall’s had in month. Louis’ eyes still look feverish, and Niall can’t help but think of how this guy has a dead body in his car, this person whose dick he’s now bouncing on, and if he comes after just a few thrusts from Louis, he’s not embarrassed by it, because he’s been close since the moment Louis put his fingers on Niall’s cock the first thing he did, pushing down his hand in Niall’s boxers, as they stumbled into the lavatory.

Louis bites his lip, and then it doesn’t take long, Niall feels himself all slack and exhausted and then Louis’ softens inside him, and there’s stickiness sliding out of him, as the same time as Louis pulls out.

It’s the first time they fuck, and they have to use paper towels to wipe themselves off, and they can hardly get their pants back on again since it’s so narrow in the cubicle, but Niall’s body feels as though it’s tingling comfortably as Louis’ arms brushes against his. He’s pretty sure he’ll sleep better tonight than he has in years, even though the seats in the Audi only can be pushed back so far.

* * *

Niall wasn’t aware, not that he’s going to tell Louis, that you can run out of antifreeze. He wasn’t aware that was a thing, if he’s being honest. Now he’s stood for maybe ten minutes and tried to explain what it is in broken German, because Louis asked him to do it while he went to search for the loo. Now Louis returns, and when Niall says ‘das macht ihn zu kuhlen’ he tells Niall he’s using the wrong case marker, looking utterly unimpressed. Something in Niall’s stomach turns cold.

‘Wait, you’re English?’ the guy behind the counter, who’s got oil pecks all over his face, says. He’s been giving Niall confused – but also rather unfazed – looks for the whole time, but now his face lights up ever so slightly.

‘Why, yes,’ Louis says. Niall says nothing, while Louis stalks nearer to the counter. Something in his eyes look predatory, and Niall almost feels sorry for the guy. Louis’ jeans sit low on his hips, and Niall kind of wants Louis’ cheeks to rub against his thighs, stubble scratchy and fingers pressing hardly into the softness of Niall’s thighs. It’s a weird thought to get like that, all of a sudden, so Niall swallows and tries to force his mouth into a smile.

‘I’m Irish, and he’s English,’ he says. ‘I didn’t realise, sorry about my crappy German.’

The dark-haired lad gives Louis another cautious look, while he says, ‘That’s fine, wasn’t that bad. I’m from England too –‘

A hand sneaks around Niall’s waist, fingertips pressing hardly against Niall’s skin through the jumper he’s wearing – if Niall has bruises there tomorrow he won’t be surprised – and Louis says loudly, ‘Can’t place your accent, Zayn, tell me more.’ His tone is just almost mocking, and Niall feels as confused as Zayn seems to be about how Louis knows his name, but then Zayn’s eyes dip down to the nametag he’s wearing, for the shortest of seconds.

When his eyes travel back up to Louis’ face, lingering just slightly on how Louis is pressed against Niall, they are slightly narrowed. ‘Bradford,’ he says, tone a bit guarded. Strong, like.

Louis nods, and while he’s very much there (because Niall can feel him, feel so much of him against himself) he also looks as though he’s so far away he’s untouchable.

Before Louis has time to say something, Niall detaches himself from Louis’ side and says, ‘So, how come you’re here?’ He can feel Louis’ eyes burning into him, and it feels strangely empty around him, as though no longer touching Louis has created some sort of vacuum around him. But he refuses to turn to Louis, and when Louis stomps away he doesn’t follow, even though it’s pulling at him. Something is pulling at him. He’s not entirely sure what.

Instead, he and Zayn strike up conversation – it’s slightly strained, but also rather nice. Comfortable, somehow. Louis already seems to have lost interest in the two of them, in being upset and burning and making the air vibrate around him, as he's quietly wandering around the workshop fingering on everything that gleams. Niall feels in a way that he should make him stop, that he’s supposed to, but he's not sure he could. Zayn does look at Louis out of the corner of his eye, but he says nothing.

In the end, they get their bottle of antifreeze, and Louis tells Zayn that he doesn’t need him to help them with the refilling, that he’ll do it himself. He strides out of the workshop, without looking back, leaving Niall to pay and bid Zayn goodbye.

When Niall’s back in the car, Louis already has the engine running, and Niall doesn’t look at Louis, shuts the door, doesn’t look at Louis, leans backwards in his seat and closes his eyes. The engine’s still running, but they’re not moving, so he peeks at Louis, and Louis is furiously revving the engine, and they’re still not moving. Without saying anything, Louis finally turns off the motor completely, and climbs out of his seat, into Niall’s lap. He kisses him hardly, the back of Niall’s head is pressed uncomfortably against the backrest what with the rim of his cap digging into his neck, but Louis’ mouth is so warm on his, so hot, and he’s got his finger pressed into the soft skin beneath Niall’s jaw.

* * *

‘Who was it?’ Niall asks, one night. It’s dark, and Louis has been quiet for ages, in the passenger seat, but Niall knows he’s not asleep because his knee has kept twitching.

‘Huh?’ Louis says.

‘The body? Who was it?’ Niall hasn’t been wanting to ask earlier, but it’s something about this night that just makes it feel wrong not to ask. Something with the way Louis hasn’t been able to fall asleep, been so squirmy and jittery for hours now. Something with the way the sun has set, but the sky is strangely light anyways.

They’ve driven through this small town which basically looks abandoned, and Niall can’t stand it, can’t stand the empty houses and the sky looking so palely yellow. Louis has to talk, and Niall has to know, and if Louis doesn’t want to tell, Niall doesn’t know what he’ll do.

‘Oh,’ Louis says, and he’s stopped moving completely, just disrupted, like someone pressed pause. ‘I don’t –‘

‘You gotta tell me,’ Niall says loudly. ‘It’s not like I’m gonna hand you in or anything. I don’t think I can talk myself out of this.’

He casts a glance at Louis, who’s staring straight forward, blinking rather rapidly. ‘Why do you need to know then?’ he says, voice rough at the edges. ‘It’s not gonna change anything, in that case.’

‘Didn’t say it would change stuff. Just want to know, just curious.’ Niall looks over at Louis again, who’s now sunk back in his seat, shoulders drawn up and he’s tugging at one of the strings on his hoodie, putting it in his mouth. Niall feels some of the energy seeping out of him. He wishes he wasn’t driving, so he could put his legs up on his seat and hug them to his body. So he’d feel like he was occupying less space.

It takes perhaps five minutes, Niall’s not counting, but the silence lasts for a really long time, until Louis quietly says ‘No.’ Niall turns over again, and sees Louis curled up against the window, back facing Niall.

He doesn’t answer him, drives for another forty minutes until they get to a service area and he can park. He leaves the car to take a piss, and when he gets back he passes the side of the car Louis is occupying. He’s got his eyes open, but when he notices that Niall sees him, he closes them. Niall goes into the 24-hour open shop, buys a packet of crisps and a coffee, sits down on a rickety chair by a dirty table and eats his crisps. He forgets about his coffee until it’s too cold to drink, but he doesn’t look at the girl behind the counter; instead he stares at the TV up by the ceiling which shows the news in Polish, and pretends some of it goes into his brain.

* * *

Second time they fuck, it’s kinda romantic. They’ve finally disposed of the body, threw it off a cliff in the Austrian alps, after having driven miles upon miles down a bumpy road (so bumpy Niall couldn’t sleep a bit, not that Louis would’ve let him anyway, because Louis was so jittery and edgy, now that they finally were going to get rid of the body) that just went straight into the forests.

And then, they drove back the same way they came, both of them eerily quiet, almost spookily so, and without saying a word, they parked outside this tiny cottage, which had a sign that said ‘Zimmer’ and now, now they’re in that zimmer and Louis has just found out there’s a bathtub.

He says, and Niall can’t tell if Louis is joking or if he’s serious or if it’s a bit of both, ‘Wanna get a bath before dinner?’ There’s a pause, and then he adds, ‘Like, bet we smell like death.’ He waggles his eyebrows, and that last bit sure is a joke, so Niall cackles loudly. Was a while since he laughed like that, and Louis’ eyes glimmer a little.

Louis starts unbuttoning his jeans, then, squirming out of them while he gets the bath water running. Niall doesn’t know where to look, doesn’t know what to do. The door is still ajar, and he wonders if he’s supposed to leave now. If he should leave the bathtub to Louis alone, and go out to the bedroom with the double bed and watch some TV with the volume really loud so Louis can jack off if he wants to without Niall hearing.

They’ve not spoken about that time in the gas station yet, that time they fucked. It’s not felt odd, not really. They’ve kept blasting music while driving, getting take-away coffee from drive-ins (because the tea is _awful_ here, or so Louis says) and taken turns sleeping. Niall hasn’t, to be honest, felt the urge to talk about it. It’s been enough just being in the car next to Louis – and feeling Louis’ energy radiate. Letting that buzz of his fill up the entire car and seep into under Niall’s skin.

Now Louis says, ‘You can’t take a bath fully dressed, man,’ and his eyes are glittering. Niall doesn’t know what it is, but it makes him want to giggle. Louis’ hands grabs his jeans and starts to wriggle them off Niall’s hips, and Niall has to bite his tongue to not actually start giggling. It’s different, the way Louis is behaving, and it’s affecting Niall too, he feels all bubbly and happy and red-faced. Like he’s tipsy off cheap vodka that tastes awful, but that he’s been drinking just because Louis has urged him on, dared him to take another shot.

The water is running in the background, but the way Louis’ hands, after getting Niall’s jeans and boxers all the way down to his ankles, slowly slide up again and comes to rest against Niall’s bare hipbones, is drowning every other sound. Louis is standing so close to Niall, and his touch is feather-light on Niall, and Louis’ head is dipped slightly forward, eyes seeming to be focused on Niall’s lips.

They stand like that for what feels like ages, because Niall’s got goose bumps all over himself, but then Louis’ chin jerks up and he says, ‘Babes, you’re freezing.’

They get into the bath – at first it’s a little awkward, and they don’t know where to put their legs, because it’s not the largest of bathtubs, this one – and yeah, it’s kind of romantic, then, when they actually fuck. Niall’s shagged in showers and in all kind of weird places, but never in a bathtub. It’s colder, not so much sweat and come clinging to you afterwards, but Louis is pressed so tightly against him afterwards that he really don’t mind freezing.

When they go downstairs next morning for breakfast, the woman owning the house, who’s set up a massive breakfast for them, gives them a slightly cheeky smile, and Louis’ cheeks go faintly red, and Niall just laughs and bumps his elbow into Louis’ arm without saying anything.

* * *

Niall is driving, has done so for hours, and Louis has been asleep for most of it, so when Louis suddenly says, ‘Brekkie?’ he almost jolts. Louis gives him a look, but says nothing, even though Niall’s grip around the steering wheel becomes a little shaky. ‘There’s a diner, like, two miles ahead.’

Niall nods, focuses on the misty road ahead of him, tries not to think about Louis, about Louis, about Louis. It’s been the only thing he’s been thinking of these hours, since they filled up the tank at a petrol station just outside Pisek at midnight, when Louis asked, looking tiny in his giant jumper and trousers tucked in his socks, if Niall could drive for a while. It’s the first time they’ve been to a petrol station since they shagged at that other one, and Louis dashed into the loo without looking over his shoulder, this time.

‘Breakfast sounds nice, I’m starving,’ Niall says. He quickly glances over at Louis, who meets his eyes for a moment. There’s a split second where everything’s vibrating, and if Niall was a bit more full of himself, he’d say it looked like Louis was on the verge of proposing giving him road head. But he really doesn’t think that’s what’s actually going on in Louis’ mind, honestly.

‘There’s the exit,’ Louis says, when they pass a road sign. ‘500 metres.’

They are quiet while they roll into the parking lot, which is entirely empty. ‘D’you reckon it’s open?’ Niall asks, casting an eye at the clock on the dashboard. It’s only 4:30.

‘Maybe not,’ Louis says, mouth a thin line. The diner, the little house ahead of them, looks as dark as the forest behind it. ‘We could catch up on some sleep, couple of hours.’

‘Sounds like a plan.’ They push their seats back as far as is possible, which isn’t far at all, but still. Niall makes sure the key is taken out of the ignition, and then he closes his eyes. Louis has already turned on his side, so he’s facing his window rather than Niall. His back is arched, and well, Niall’s eyes are widely open, not closed at all.

‘Lou,’ he says after a couple of minutes.

‘Mmm,’ Louis murmurs, immediately. ‘What?’

There are so many things Niall wants to say, but all of them are dancing on the edge of his tongue, won’t let him articulate him. He wants to tell Louis that he’s happy, and he wants to tell Louis that it’s because of him, and he wants to tell Louis that even though he knows almost nothing about him, it feels like he does, and he wants to tell Louis that that’s why he left home, because even though he knew everything about everyone, it felt like he didn’t know them at all. He says, ‘Aren’t you cold?’ and he tries to think of all those unsaid things, so maybe some of them will seep into that one question, so maybe Louis will get it.

‘A little,’ Louis replies. He still has his back against Niall, one foot drawn up so it’s underneath his leg. The sole on his shoe is white, and it looks as though there’s scribbles on it. Niall both wants to read it and doesn’t want to, doesn’t want to figure something out about Louis that will destroy that sense of not knowing and yet _knowing_ Louis.

Niall sniffles a little.

Louis turns over in his seat, head rested against the backseat and mouth slack. His fringe is hanging down in his eyes, hair looking unwashed, and there are dark circles beneath his eyes. Without saying something, face entirely blank, he reaches out and grabs Niall’s hand. There’s a moment where his hand is hovering just above the skin on Niall’s palm, and that buzz of electricity is there again. Niall doesn’t know if he wants Louis to be able to feel it, as well, or if he wants it to be something non-shareable. Something that’s only his.

Louis’ hand is warm in his, and at some point Niall must have fallen asleep, because he wakes up to the sound of a motorcycle, engine running loudly next to them.

He looks out the window, after noting that Louis’ hand, while slightly moist, is still holding onto his. It feels weird to smile because of something like it, even though he kind of wants to, so he just keeps his mouth shut. Next to their car is a motorcycle, obviously, which is still running, guy on it looking confusedly at the passenger in the sidecar, who is gesticulating wildly and pointing towards Niall and Louis, a few curls peeking out from beneath his helmet, bouncing against his jumper-clad back.

Niall pulls his hand out of Louis’ grasp, carefully, and opens his door.

This has the curly guy, who is still seated in the sidecar, give the driver a push, which makes him finally turn off the engine. ‘Tried to tell you, they were asleep!’ he huffs.

The man on the motorcycle takes off his helmet and unmounts the bike. He looks a little bit out of it, as though he’s not sure what’s going on, and also as though he’s crossing his fingers mentally that he’s not offended anyone. The guy in the sidecar gives him a soft look, then, and reaches up to pat his thigh, to which he responds by sort of melting into the touch.

Niall clears his throat, instead of thinking of how he regrets dropping Louis’ hand. Regrets not being able to feel his skin against his anymore. There’s like a mile between the two of them, now that Louis’ eyes have opened, a little dazed, but narrowed, as they’ve become fixated upon the duo outside of the car. Niall’s not sure he’s inside Louis’ bubble, Louis’ shield, the wall he’s built around himself, or outside, with the other two.

‘Sorry to wake you up,’ the guy standing up says. ‘Wasn’t aware.’

‘That’s fine,’ Niall says. ‘I’m starved, either way, so I would’ve woken up any minute now anyway.’ He smiles, having to block out some of the sunlight as he’s stood up outside the car. He’s not heard Louis’ door open yet, but he doesn’t turn around to look.

‘Irish, are you?’ the one with the curls says, as he’s crawled, rather ungracefully, out of the sidecar. The other lad has to steady him for a short moment, even.

‘Yeah,’ Niall responds.

‘Always nice meeting some good ol’ Britons down here. I’m Liam,’ the driver says, sticking out a hand. Niall grabs it, introduces himself as Niall, as Liam points at the other guy, informs that his name is Harry, and Harry waves a little and says ‘Hiiiii.’

The sound of a car door being slammed shut has Niall jerking a little. He turns his head around, sees Louis leaning his arms against the roof of the Audi, looking ruffled and distant. ‘I’m Louis, and it’s freezing out here, so d’you wanna continue this making-friends bullshit inside or?’ When he says the last part, he stares at Niall, and Niall’s not certain if he’s following what Louis is thinking. Something inside him tells him Louis is mad at him, that he’s feeling left alone and betrayed, and Niall feels like he’s lost something. Something he wasn’t aware that he had. Something that could’ve – should’ve – been protected.

* * *

‘So, how did you two end up together?’ Harry asks, pulling at one of his braids. His tone makes it hard to tell what Harry means by ‘together’, and Niall can feel Louis freezing up next to him, pulling his knee away from where he’s had it pressed into the outer side of Niall’s thigh.

‘I needed a ride,’ Niall says with a shrug. It’s true, so it’s not like he’s making it up or so. He did need a ride, at that point. He stood by a junction to M1, just a couple of miles outside Sheffield, arm tired, head aching, and in a terrible mood since the truck driver had promised to take him all the way down to Northampton, but ditched him when Niall went in for a quick piss at a petrol station. When a car finally did stop, he had been so ecstatic (it had started to rain, too, and his bag would soon be completely soaked even though he had tried covering it beneath his jumper) he’d just jumped straight in, not even asked where they were going.

It was Louis, of course, in that car. He didn’t say much, just gave Niall an up-and-down look, scorching, was it, and said, ‘I’m on my way to the continent, let me know where you wanna get off.’ Then he shut his mouth, thin line, and sped up, while his free hand increased the volume on the stereo.

Niall has yet to tell Louis where he wants to get off.

When they arrived at the Chunnel, Louis asked if Niall had a passport, and Niall somehow felt like he was supposed to say no – that they were supposed to part here, that he was supposed to continue touring England, like his plan had been, just getting away from everything for a little while. But his passport was right there, in one of the pockets with a zip on in his bag, where he also kept his earphones and a few euros he had found in his dad’s drawer and two condom packages. ‘Yeah, I do,’ he said, and Louis nodded as he swerved into one of the Nothing-To-Declare lanes.

A day or so later, Niall woke up with his neck in a terrible crick, to the sound of Louis opening the trunk. It was dark outside, clock at the dashboard telling him it was only 4 a.m., but when the trunk was shut again, Niall could see the shape of Louis outlined by the streetlights at this fairly empty parking lot. Louis was carrying something rather bulky, hands slipping around the black plastic bag it was wrapped in, and then he leant it towards the rear end of another car, before opening that car’s trunk and heaving it in.

He then returned to their car, and Niall shut his eyes as he saw him nearing his side of the car. When Louis tapped his window, he opened them again, tried to look wild-eyed and confused.

‘Mate, sorry to wake you up,’ Louis said when Niall had opened the door. It was terribly cold outside, wind howling and Niall still was wearing two jumpers at once. ‘I need you to get out of this car; we’re getting a new one.’ There was something challenging in his eyes, something that made Niall feel like there was nothing he could respond, so he just shuffled out of the car, grabbing his bag from the backseat, and then stood aside.

Louis looked at him again, stared, pretty much, as though he tried to figure something out. Niall blew at his fingers and let him. He tried to look unfazed, best as he could, and it must’ve worked, because then Louis opened the trunk again and grabbed a petrol can. With a final look to Niall, he unscrewed the cork, and then soaked the entire car in the liquid. All the time glancing at Niall, who just stood there, shivering a little from the cold. After a short pause, Louis started pouring the petrol on the ground, stepping perhaps 20 metres away from the car. Niall followed him without a word.

‘Well,’ Louis said finally, now pointedly looking away from Niall, it seemed. He dug out a lighter from the pocket on his jeans, and then, yeah, then he set fire to the car.

At least the warmth from the flames made Niall warm up a little bit, he thought as he stood there watching the car burning, on a half-abandoned parking lot in the French woods. He didn’t know what else to think, really.

As soon as they got in the other car, Louis’ eyes were blaring with energy, and he tapped on the steering wheel with his fingers, foot apparently heavy on the accelerator, as they were far past the allowed speed limit. ‘You ever been to France before?’ he asked, voice just a bit too loud for the car. He didn’t wait for a response, kept talking about France and champagne and oysters, and Niall couldn’t tell what it was, what it was that made him feel so alive, here, with a man that had just burnt down a car, and carried round something wrapped in a black plastic sack that had the distinct shape of a human body. Like, what the fuck.

Louis’ fingers are tapping against the table, much alike that moment in the car, all those months ago. Niall juts out his jaw and presses his knee into Louis’ thigh. ‘Needed a ride, and Lou had an empty seat.’

Harry seems to get that they don’t want to say more, and Niall thinks, that maybe there isn’t anything else to add, anyway, that’s all there is to his and Louis’ story, if one would call it such. Liam returns to the table with a tray with coffee cups and a couple of buns. He sets it down, and the diner is a little chilly and it’s completely grey outside, but it still feels warm, inside Niall.

He thinks about it, later, in the car, when they’ve said goodbye to Harry and Liam, no numbers or email addresses exchanged – all probably fully aware they’ll never meet again, but not saying it out loud. If it was another world, they would be friends, Niall’s sure of it. In another world, he would hold Louis’ hand under that table in that diner, would possibly peck his cheek, and Harry and Liam would be a prominent part of their lives, entwined with them. But in that world, he also thinks, looking at Louis’ pale hand gripping around the clutch, in that world Louis’ eyes wouldn’t burn in the same way, his skin wouldn’t buzz with energy; it wouldn’t be the same Louis, just as Niall wouldn’t be this Niall, and he’s not sure where that would leave the two of them.

The skin around Louis’ eyes is tight when he glances at Niall. ‘They were nice,’ he says, quietly.

Niall just nods, and lights up a cigarette with shaky fingers, which he then hands to Louis, who rolls down his window before accepting it. When their fingers touch, Niall can swear there’s something that tingles, something electrical, but Louis doesn’t seem to notice. ‘They were,’ he repeats. ‘I liked them.’

Niall isn’t sure what their destination is, now that they’re rid of the body. He doesn’t want to ask, though, and he’s not sure he cares. Louis brakes, then, and it almost makes Niall jolt a little – that’s how sudden it is. ‘Like you better,’ Louis says, after a beat. When the car’s at a full stop. ‘Like you best.’ Niall doesn’t know how to say it back; he feels as though he’s glued to the back of seat, because the words from Louis mouth, he’s not sure how he ever can say them back. Louis’ hand releases the gearshift and lands on the back of Niall’s neck. And Niall doesn’t say it back, because then Louis kisses him, and he kind of does say it back, through opening his mouth and licking into Louis’ mouth, and yes, he thinks, he doesn’t care what their destination is as long as it’s the same for the both of them.

In the future, maybe Louis will talk to Niall about things, and maybe Niall will talk to Louis about his things. Maybe they’ll come to share things and maybe that’ll leave them better off, but for now, for now Niall can’t imagine wanting anything but this.


End file.
